


We Build Statues Out Of Snow (And Weep To See Them Melt)

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Immortality, Obsession, Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, Stream of Consciousness, Time Travel, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5815813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashildr follows the Doctor. He never follows her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Build Statues Out Of Snow (And Weep To See Them Melt)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Game of Cards](gameofcards.livejournal.com/) prompt; "We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt." ― Walter Scott.

Ashildr followed the Doctor. She followed the legends of him, of his companions, of his blue box, from times before her people were even born. She learned every name for him, every fairy tale about him, every heroic act attributed to him before the decade had even passed. 

When her people started to die, she told herself of how he would always come and save the day. When her village burned to nothing and her race lost their war and the land changed hands, the voices changed tongues, she thought for sure, this would be the thing that called him back, to save history from changing, just like Clara said he did. 

A hundred years after that, when it really was history, she realised it never had been for her. Nothing ever would be again. And yet, everything was. She had one foot lodged perfectly in each, living in neither. Surely that’s when he would come, when she had nothing left of her life as it had been.

Even when she forgot her name, forgot herself, she remembered him. Centuries stacked upon each other like building blocks that would never come crashing down, no matter how hard she pushed. She followed him through time, always a little bit too late, only hearing, never seeing. She would dream about him, travel seas for him, walk across countries on her bare feet, trying to catch up, trying to work out how.

When going to him failed her, she tried to get him to come to her. She wrote letters, stuffed them in bottles and threw them out to sea. She made him famous. She made him infamous. She placed bounties on his head, wanted dead or alive, it didn’t matter how so long as she had him. She bargained, she borrowed, she stole and sold her soul away until she had him. But he wasn’t what she remembered. He wasn’t the story she told herself.

She tried again and again, trying to catch the right Doctor, the one that would save her. He never came. It was always the same one, the one that told her no. That made her stay and live it out, second by ticking second, dragging on forever and a day.

But she couldn’t stop. It was like a sickness now. An addiction. She followed him. She followed him right to the end of the universe, waited for him until he’d have nowhere else to go but with her and she had nothing left to do but keep following. And he still found somewhere else to go. And strangely enough, after all of time and with all of time standing before her, she had found someone else to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> As of 01/01/18, I'm opting to disable comments. [More information here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13077201).


End file.
